Fade Away
by mytimezoneiscptsd
Summary: A series of short one-shots I write to clear my head. Mostly angst, some fluff. Chapter 15: Reminders. "Okay, you can regenerate. But that doesn't explain how the scars are still there."
1. Aftermath

He groaned softly as he stretched his arms and legs as far as they could go before collapsing onto her bed, smiling as she heard her soft laughter before she flopped down next to him. "School is hell," He complained, a pout set across his lips. It quickly disappeared when she pecked him on the lips, a dopey smile spreading instead before he rolled over and rested his chin on her hands, smirking up at her.

"If you ever wanted a ring, what would you want on it?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing flashy or showy, nothing too bright, either. Maybe barbs," She hummed in response. "Why?"

"No reason," He lied, a dazed smile still in place as he played with her hair.

"And you?"

"And me?" He asked.

"What would you want?"

He paused.

"I don't really know, if I'm honest," He admitted with a shrug, looking down at their intertwined hands. "Maybe something to match? Cobalt with a silver section, like Danny Phantom."

"Yeah, because I'm sure no one would make a connection with 'DP' engraved in it," She scoffed, punching him in the arm. He laughed quietly.

"You're right, you're right."

"I'm always right."


	2. Casualties

The first casualty would always be the hardest - he knew this not only from the force he had spoken to, but his own experiences as well.

No one had meant for the little girl to stray into the crossfire, no one had intended for Skulker to have misfired - not even he himself. He wasn't so cruel as to intentionally injure or kill a small child (besides Danny, of course), especially of the human variety.

When the cries rang out, they broke apart immediately, turning to see what the screams had been about when Danny spotted her prone form lying in the grass. His eyes had widened and a small 'no' had escaped regretfully from his lips as he dove to assess the damage. When he got there, he realized he was too late - it had been a direct hit, and a strong one, at that. He covered his mouth and backed away, shaking his head with a hoarse noise of distinct urgency and disbelief.

The girl's parents had run over by then, dropping to their knees to cradle the child's head as they cried, and he stood there watching them for a long few minutes before he felt a presence loom over him. Twisting, he saw Skulker, a fierce anger burning in him as he snarled for the mechanical ghost to go away before he got too angry - though honestly, that point had been long ago.

When the ghost finally complied, he let the ectoplasm pooling and spiraling between his fingers fade and seep back into his flesh, panting softly as he gripped his hair for a moment before recomposing himself. When he tried to help the two grieving parents, he flinched back when he was met with rabid sobs of raw hatred and fury, the look in the mother's eyes sending daggers of ice through him as he quickly stumbled back, murmuring apologies rapidly as his legs formed into a tail of vapor before he shot away.

He ignored the texts and calls from Sam and Tucker and shut himself away in his room, telling his parents that he felt sick and needed some time to get better. Jazz, however, of course knew better, especially after seeing the report on the news channel, and went in his room regardless. Thank god she was there.


	3. Cookies

The front door opened before shutting loudly with a slam, a haggard, exhausted Danny stumbling away from the door and dropping his backpack on the floor. "'M home," He called, watching through half-lidded eyes as his mother stepped into the kitchen, making him flnch before he realized she was just holding a tray of cookies. He slumped slightly, rubbing at his arm as he avoided her gaze.

"Welcome home, sweetie! How was school?" She asked cheerily, setting the tray aside on the table as she turned back to remove another pan.

"It.. It was fine, I guess," He muttered, sighing softly as he ran a hand through his jet black hair before rubbing the back of his neck. She frowned, setting the other tray down and placing her hands on her hips, a knowing frown replacing her happy expression.

"Now Danny, you know I can see right through you," She chastised him lightly. _Yeah, I bet you can,_ He thought sarcastically, refraining from rolling his eyes at the thought.

"I just had a-a bit of a rough day, alright? Nothing to worry about, promise," He assured her, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table, elbows on the hard surface and his fists propping his cheeks up. "I'm just tired."

He flinched at the feeling of hands on his shoulders, falling out of his chair with a shriek before regaining his bearings on the wooden floor, a frown crossing his face. He stood up and brushed himself off with a huff before he was quickly engulfed in a hug - he was stiff for a moment, but he began to relax, soon enough melting into her embrace and hugging back with strength that she hadn't known he possessed.

"Sorry, it's... it's been a rough week," He admitted hoarsely before retreating up to his room.

She smiled softly - she'd bring him cookies later.


	4. Focus

"Mr. Fenton, I suggest you keep your head up if you wish to pass with your failing grade," Mr. Lancer's voice called in an annoyed tone, snapping him out of his exhausted daze and bringing his head out of his hands. He nodded, mumbling a short 'Sorry, sir' before he glued his eyes back to the white board, trying hard to focus on the letters and numbers that seemed to blur and waver each time he tried to read them.

He hadn't slept well for, well, ever since he got his powers, and honestly, he was running out of steam and burning out like a lightbulb. His vision blurred as he continued to stare without any target in his line of sight, letting him space out slowly until his forehead met the edge of the desk with a loud thunk, quickly startling out of his stupor. Mr. Lancer had turned to see what the noise had been, and upon seeing his red forehead, he snorted before turning around and continuing the lesson.

Danny was trying to focus, he really was, but exhaustion won over eventually in the end. The next time he faded back into consciousness was when the bell rang loudly, scaring him awake, backflipping out of his chair and sinking into a defensive stance. When he realized he wasn't under attack, he quickly packed up his things and fled the classroom in an attempt to get away from any prying eyes.


	5. I'll Only Bring Pain

Danny shoved Valerie away from him, the shock evident in her face as he glared back at her. She didn't know what she'd done - of course she wouldn't. She didn't know who he was - would _never_ know who he was - so why would _she_ care?

"Look," He growled, jabbing a finger at her aggressively as he hissed through clenched teeth, eyes glittering a furious green. "I'm warning you right now, don't come near me again. I'm through with being helpful and happy when all I get in return is bullshit, so stay away." He shut the door to his locker heavily with a loud slam, making her flinch as his angry gaze bore into hers one last time. With that settled, he squared his shoulders, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and sauntered off down the hallway, mingling with the crowd.


	6. I See Fire

The small specks of gray floating gently down next to him didn't seem to bother him in the least as he hovered above the roaring of the flames, feeling them creep up his legs and lick at his HAZMAT suit, the plastic beginning to melt and blister into the flesh that lay beneath. His green eyes held the depths of the inferno before him, the wreckage engraved solely in his pupils. He was completely transfixed - he couldn't tear his gaze away, not even for a second. The ashes clung to his body, his white hair becoming darker as soot and ash clung to it, shaking gloved fingers curling into fists.

She hadn't made it out.

 _And I see fire._


	7. Captivity

This was a more, uh, personal drabble I was working on last night, not too long, sorry, but it's... to the point, I guess.

/

Danny stared up at the darkened sky longingly, blue eyes dulled and broken as he took in the stars and the moon, just barely visible through the clouds that thickened and gathered overhead. It was nights like these, the ones where they left him alone for a full day in order for him to recover as he stared out at the sky between the bars keeping him trapped, that he would take time to truly think of his family and loved ones, not fleeting pleads for them to save him from his unending torment, but fully formed thoughts that weren't driven from physical pain.

He thought of Sam - How she looked, the lilac perfume she'd always wear that billowed around her in a way that seemed so Sam, how she was questioning her gender, how he wondered if she had changed her pronouns and if he should start thinking differently, using they or them, if their mother was still an utter asshole, if they were okay.

He thought of Tucker - His laugh, the way his lips looked when he smiled and showed his teeth, the way his eyes softened when they met Danny's, his intense concentration, his nerdy rambles, Maurice and his wife, how the family was doing... If they were alright. Alive.

He thought of Jazz - Her encouraging, soft smile, her orange hair that almost put Garfield's fur to shame, the soft yet firm look in her topaz eyes that reassured him so often that everything would be okay, if she had to force it to be okay or not, her 'psychobabble' that he had complained about - he missed it now. God, he missed it so, so much.


	8. Smashing The Opponent

The explosion rocked the buildings that rose from the ground, glass shattering from the windows closest to the impact. Despite it being in the air, the shock waves had shook the city tremendously, car alarms blaring wildly from the streets as people exited their cars to look for what potential danger had arisen.

The red figure on their hoverboard lowered their arm, the canon-like weapon mounted atop it smoking and sparking from the previous activation. Smoke obscured her vision, clouding the area where the ghost had once been hovering, defensively glaring at her through venomous green eyes. As it cleared, she was able to make out a crater below her, the dazed form crawling out of it dragging it's ectoplasm through the grass, staining it an even brighter green as it struggled.

She flew lower, hovering just in front of him, hands placed firmly on her hips - the smirk that had been in place on her lips quickly fell into an open expression of shock before tightening into a look of reserved anger. Before her was no longer the ghost boy, but Danny Fenton, it's- his? mangled form rasping and wheezing as he greedily sucked in air with a throaty, liquid rattling noise, ectoplasm and blood leaking from his open mouth as dazed eyes stared up at her, a pleading look in them.

Her lips tightened - it wasn't Danny. It was Phantom. The ghost was trying to get to her by using his form. Luckily, she'd seen enough tricks during her hunts that she knew what to expect, and what was obviously a trap. As his cracked, bleeding lips moved to form her name, she raised her right hand and shot him between the eyes.


	9. Dramamine

**We kiss on the mouth but still cough down our sleeves.**

"See you at eight?" He asked hopefully, his blue eyes half lidded as he gazed into her own green depths, running a nervous hand through his hair as a small, shaky smile settled over his face.

"See you at eight," She confirmed before leaning forwards and giving a small yet passionate kiss on the lips, the boy gasping into it before pressing back fervently with his own, eyes closing for a short moment. They broke apart with twin gasps, eased smiles both on their faces as they dazedly stared at one another.

"R-Right, ah, s-see you at eight!" He repeated before awkwardly stumbling into the cold, frigid winter air.

They still met at eight, but it wasn't in the way that they had intended to.

A harsh blow to his ribs left him reeling, gasping greedily for the air that had fled his lungs upon impact and left him vulnerable, having flinched and curled inwards in an attempt to protect himself from further harm. However, this gave the Huntress a clear shot of his back, where a rocket made contact before propelling him into the dirt with an explosion. He forced himself to lean upwards on only his hands, shifting so that he lay on his side, propped up by an elbow.

He raised a shaking gloved hand to wipe at the ectoplasm that spilled from his lips before coughing into the palm of it, aching as his ribs screamed in protest and set his nerves aflame. Ectoplasm had spattered the inside of his glove. He curled his hand, lips pressed tightly into a grim expression. He didn't last long before a foot was suddenly shoving his mouth into the dirt, a startled growl escaping him as his fingers tore and dug at the grass and earth below him.

"Resorting to groveling already, spook?" She taunted, replacing her foot with a hand, her fingers wrenching a handful of dirty white hair into her grasp as she crouched down and lifted his face, his grimace meeting her smirk.

"Don't worry, you won't have to plead for long," She purred as she took him by the throat, roughly pushing him on his back, sending pain flaring up his ribs once more as she ground the heel of her reinforced boots into his chest, a short croak torn from his throat before a gun was roughly shoved into his mouth to stifle the cry. He couldn't say he was pleased with the date, but at least it was exciting.

He coughed around the gun, lips curling back in disgust as his teeth bit into the metal exterior of the weapon, ectoplasm leaking from the corner of his mouth as he glared up at her defiantly, but all that his gaze held was defensive weariness at the woman poised on top of him, her finger quivering on the trigger and a triumphant smirk on her face as she gloated over her sure to be victory.

"I'd ask if you had any last words, but it looks to me like you've already got quite the mouthful." Okay, seriously? Puns were _his_ thing, and this was starting to get old real fast. He loved the thrill, the chase, the surge of adrenaline that came with the prospect of a hunt, but this was when those times became trying and he began to struggle and fight back for his life.

It was well past eight by now, judging by the stars that shown brightly overhead - for a moment, he was lost gazing up into the depths of space, wondering if one day, he too would be up there among them, but he was quickly snapped from his daze as the Huntress shoved the gun further into the back of his throat, making him gag around it. This seemed to surprise her, pulling it out to gauge his reaction before shaking it off.

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Fuck off."


	10. Consumption

The change that took hold with his death was not abrupt, nor was it painless.

The initial pain had come from simply dying at his mother's hands, her gloved fingers prodding and groping his internal organs and sawing at bone as though it were nothing more than flimsy pieces of driftwood to get to the treasure that truly lied beneath - she had been enamored by his heart. He remembered the intrusive itch as her fingers skated gently over the pulsing organ, the way he had choked and gurgled in protest, any way that he possibly could whilst bonded to the cold, metal table, the way she had dug her fingertips into the aorta with such disturbing curiousity that he had given a breathless sob at the stabbing pain the scalpel brought moments later as it began to give way, vision fading as he begged for death, screamed for it silently in his mind, fingers clenching into fists as he arched his back to the best of his ability before remaining still.

The next few moments were silent, save for the squelching of ectoplasm and blood as his corpse was fondled mercilessly in her raw, eager hunger for the knowledge she would inevitably gain from the vivisection - no, autopsy, watching that heart begin to slow and stop pumping.

It was seven minutes before the rings appeared around his waist, two more before she screamed and broke down over the body of her son, and one before fingers curled around her neck and _pulled_.


	11. Used

"We've known."

"All of us."

The simple admission was two simple words, yet it felt like a dictionary had been thrown at his face - actually, he'd prefer having one thrown instead of whatever sick joke was taking place in his household, fingers twitching at his side as he processed this… tidbit of knowledge, along with the implications that it brought with it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jazz biting her lip, eyebrows arched into a look of confusion mixed with worry. He'd laugh at her expression, had he not felt like his core was shattering and melting into icy rivers of ectoplasm. Finally, he curled his fingers into fists, his eyes pulsing their radioactive green as they bore into his mothers eyes.

"You knew, and yet you shot at me and left me to deal with the wounds that _you_ inflicted. Alone."

He only saw Jack flinch - he knew his mother had always been a hardened woman, but this was taking it to an extreme - her lips were pursed with what, disappointment? Annoyance? It was disgusting to him, and quite honestly, he'd never felt such a violent urge towards her ever in his half-life than he did now. A shuddering sigh left him as he closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as he managed not to yell, to keep himself from flinging himself at them in desperate angry screams for them to _just help him for once_.

He turned, ignoring his sister's cries for him to wait, to just try and talk everything out and see each others' views, before morphing into Phantom, opening the door and slamming it behind him with such force that the hinges broke.

He spent the rest of the night draped over a wooden bench that rested along the path that cut through the park, ignoring the freezing rain that had, of course, begun to pour shortly after he had arrived. Just his luck, right? He wouldn't have been surprised if it was Vortex, but at this point, he was too tired - too _exhausted_ \- to care.

The next day he showed up for class, everyone immediately knew that something had changed. They weren't quite sure as to what it was, but there was a dangerous air to the so-called loser of Casper High, shoulders stiff and entire body tense, jaw locked, teeth grit, and face blank. When Dash had approached him for his 'daily beating', a simple glare and flash of green eyes had immediately made him stumble back. Danny shook his head, laughing hollowly to himself before he hunched his shoulders and walked back to class.

Apparently, Jazz had gotten to Sam and Tucker, telling them the full length of the situation that they were involved in at that moment - they both could tell that he was unstable, very possibly unhinged, from his harsh attitude and posture as he took his seat at his desk. Lancer seemed somewhat surprised that he was on time for once, even more so when a shaken Dash mumbled a faint excuse before plopping down at his desk.

About half way through the class, a choked gasp escaped Danny as freezing vapor clawed its way out of his throat, billowing into the air before him. The boy let out a savage snarl before merely morphing right in his seat, which shocked everyone into a cold silence as he phased through the window. Of course, everyone immediately rushed to the window, excited murmurs and exclamations escaping the students as Lancer watched on with a discouraged frown.

They all noticed that the young ghost was being particularly brutal as he dealt with Skulker - no banter was involved, at least from the teenager's side, as he quickly got to work in disassembling the mechanical suit with a vengeance that could not be matched, a look of disdain and raw fury engraved in his face. They were more surprised when the entire form of the ghost melted into a pool of ectoplasm, Danny Phantom panting angrily over the ooze before he straightened up and wiped the blood from his phase, returning to his human form and simply taking his place at his desk once more.

No one was brave enough to bring the occurance up as Lancer shakily continued their lesson and Danny's glare permeated the thick tension surrounding them, his posture still as tense as it had been before.

A week after the incident, they noticed that Danny Phantom rarely appeared to take care of the ghosts that threatened Amity Park unless it was of a high ranking - namely, Vortex and Undergrowth. He left all else to the Red Huntress, who he had grown increasingly enraged with when encountered alone - he no longer held back around her, nor his parents or the Guys in White.

It was only a matter of time before the situation spiraled into chaos.


	12. Reality Is The Real Illusion

He was being escorted through the hallways, the chill of metal walls and floors just barely affecting him as the two GiW agents roughly led him to a vast room he hadn't been inside of before, the cuffs and chains rattling noisily as they walked, the only sound from the cuffs, shackles, and the clacks of their shoes. They halted abruptly in front of a large, steel door, and he didn't need to raise his eyes to realize that this room would be his last room. They pushed his back, making him stumble inside with a sharp gasp before he fell to his knees, eyes squeezing shut as he managed to twist his body so that he landed on his side instead of flat on his face.

He had learned not to talk, and especially not to plead or beg - the punishment for such excursions varied into more vile, painful methods that he'd rather not live through yet again. He drew in a deep breath before managing the strength to push himself up so that he was sitting on his knees, kneeling with his head down and hair draped over his face as he regained his breath. He hadn't been fed for quite a while, leaving him fairly frail and winded.

Danny already knew what was happening - had been told about the experience far too many times, had shivered while the other person broke down before him as they retold their tale of how their friend or family member was dragged off to the dark metal room. He knew to hold his breath as the loud hissing filled the chamber, to squeeze his eyes shut and hope they thought he was already gone. After thirty seconds of hearing the hissing and the blood pounding in his ears, a loud explosion forced him to open his eyes and gasp in shock as the wall was forcefully obliterated before him, his prone, chained form staring up at the figures who'd dared to attempt to rescue him. He started to shake when Tucker and Sam threw his arms around their shoulders, which escalated to violent shivers when they brought him into daylight and before his parents.

They didn't question him when he started to cry - surely anyone would have, after being locked up for several months without hope of escape. But when he started muttering for them to leave him alone, they started asking questions. The classic 'what do you mean?' and 'oh, what did they do to you?'. He knew it was just another of their damned illusions, that it was just the agents toying with him for kicks yet again.

"You win, okay? I-I... I can't do this anymore," He coughed, shoulders shaking as he met 'Maddie's' eyes, cuffed hands drawn up to his chest vulnerably, much like how a kicked puppy would recoil.

"Sweetie, what do you mean? We're going home," His mother tried to console him, reaching forward to place a hand on his shoulder only to draw back with a startled inhale as he wrenched himself backwards and away from her touch, a wild look in his eyes as it tore a sob from his throat.

"No more," He choked. "No more."

They ended up having to drug him, driving home in silence as they thought over just what he could've been talking about, what the agents had done to break him so easily.


	13. Woke The Fuck Up

_He watched her form wobble on the tightrope, the way her muscles contracted in a desperate effort to redistribute her strength and weight so that she could walk, if not stand, on the thin wire she had been forced onto, the dark figure behind her watching with a savage gleam in his red eyes. The shouts of his master only encouraged his thirst, that_ need _to see the wire break._

 _So he swung the scythe down._

He sat up so sharply that his back and neck cracked loudly in protest as ragged breaths filled the air with fog, chest heaving as he fought desperately to get himself under control, shivering as the cold sweat drenched him mercilessly as he shivered, pulling himself up further so that he was sitting back against his pillow, pushing it back into the frame of his bed as he drew his knees up to his chin and hugged them closer with his arms, head dropping between his legs as he continued to gasp out each breath.

Thinking about the nightmare- no, the memory- brought a new sense of panic, and he could feel the sweat beginning to collect on his brow once more as he clenched his eyes shit tightly and grit his jaw, fingers digging harshly into his kneecaps as a shuddering sigh ended up as a broken sob, which he choked back with a tight swallow as he squeezed his eyes tighter against the burning that he felt pooling beneath his eyelids.

 _I can't do this._

He dragged himself out of his bed slowly, testing his legs to see if they would hold his weight despite the tremors, and once he deemed himself steady enough to continue, he made his way into the bathroom he and Jazz shared, not bothering to turn on the light, nor close the door as he gripped the edges of the sink, knuckles white from the force of his grip as he raised his head to meet his own gaze in the mirror, a broken, laugh of a sob escaping him as he realized that his eyes were not, in fact, an aching, swirling red, but instead a broken baby blue, which comforted him somewhat.

He made sure to tread lightly as he made his way back to his room, breath baited as he prayed that he hadn't awoken anyone. The last thing he needed was Jazz hounding him to open up to her and explain what happened for the whole 'healing' process. He just... He couldn't. Not so soon. As he returned to his bed, he sat with one leg crossed, the other hanging off the side of his bed, phone in hand. The screen sprung to life, making him wince against the sudden onslaught of light, though it faded as he scrolled through his contacts, his breath hitching as his thumb hovered over one of them.

 _Samantha Manson._

Sparing a brief glance at his clock, he bit his lip harshly when he noted the time - she surely wouldn't appreciate him calling her at 1:12 in the morning over a nightmare. But at the same time, he had to know if she was okay, that he hadn't done anything beyond what they had told him - he remembered it all, but there was no telling what Freakshow could have done with that fucking staff. He wouldn't put it past the man to control him and erase his memories of it later just to add to the pain.

Danny shook his head, a shuddering, sharp inhale making him tilt his head back as tears collected in his eyes, holding his breath as he tried to stall them, grip tightening on his phone. When he was no longer in threat of flat out sobbing, his shoulders sagged and his back slouched, staring at the wall for a long moment.

 _This is all my fault._

He thumbed the power button on his phone, watching the screen die before he rested it back on his nightstand, holding back the panic he felt pooling so prominently in his chest as he lay back against his pillow once more, staring at the ceiling and tracing the patterns of the plaster with his eyes. Was it even worth it to try and fall back asleep? Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that blinding, swirling crimson... He later decided that, no, it wasn't worth it, and that he would much rather deal with baggy and bloodshot eyes than experience what happened a third time.

 **Inspired by the song 'Woke The Fuck Up' by Jon Bellion.**


	14. The Part You Played

The teenager's body squirmed and thrashed beneath the succubus' hold, his hands wrapping themselves harshly around the hand that kept him pinned to the floor by the throat, a low gurgling escaping his mouth as a long, reptilian tongue flicked his cheek teasingly, sending a shudder of disgust down his spine as he tried to arch his back in a desperate attempt to throw her weight off of him, but the she demon was too heavy and overpowering to escape.

"You're only going to let them down," She hissed, teeth snapping close to his nose just to make him flinch away from her, cringing as her peppermint breath choked the air around him, as though he weren't already being strangled already.

"But you already know that, now, don't you?" It was becoming harder to drag in air, his furious gaze fixed on Spectra's blazing red eyes, ectoplasm bubbling from between his lips and speckling his chin.

"You've managed to blindfold them from your mistakes so easily, even I envy your ability to do so," She purred, lifting him off the ground as he began to claw and scratch at the arm holding him, feet kicking as he gasped and choked against her talons, feeling them rake against his throat just enough to draw blood.

" _Look_ ," She spat, thrusting him forwards to face the city. The bank they were currently fighting in was in ruins, rubble blocking the exits all except for the windows, which had shattered. Others' blood was spattered on the floor, a trail leading through the window and out into the street, where he could already hear the screeching of police sirens.

"You may have only played a _small_ part in this destruction, but let's be honest - it's _your_ fault that we're even _here_." He couldn't even argue, and not just due to the lack of air. His stomach sank sickeningly as he took in the amount of sheer destruction that had been caused - and they'd only been fighting for a good twenty minutes or so.

She threw him to the side, chuckling lowly as she stood over him, poised to strike, but she drew back a moment later with a satisfied hum reverberating within her chest, having taken her fill of misery from the boy that lay panting heavily as he fought for breath before her.

"As much as I'd _love_ to stay for seconds, it seems that the police are arriving first - and guess just who is going to take all the blame for this?" Spectra cooed, forcing his gaze to meet hers as she shoved his jaw up with a talon.

"Be a _good boy_ and I'll be back for seconds."

* * *

 **A/N: This was inspired by the chorus of the song Dancing Like An Idiot by Bayside and my guilt ridden self.**


	15. Reminders

"Alright, so you can regrow limbs…" Sam stated in utter shock, looking down at Danny's newly formed arm with a mild look of awe and disturbance - he couldn't really blame her, he'd be freaked out, too, if she had suddenly regrown a limb.

"Dude! You're like a starfish!" Tucker exclaimed, grinning widely as he brought up an article about them on his PDA with a few taps, smirking proudly to himself as he thrust the device in Danny's face, making him recoil and blink in confusion. Sam promptly elbowed the techno geek in the side, met with a sharp 'hey!' in response.

"Okay, you can regenerate. But that doesn't explain how the scars are still there," Sam scrutinized, narrowing her eyes as he glanced over the new arm - it was slightly more pale than the other, like when you would take off a band-aid and there'd be gross untouched skin under it. (The thought made Danny shudder - he hated that.) Across the length of his arm, however, much like the rest of his body, it was still marred with small and large scars alike, some already fading to white, others a dark contrasting red that shown starkly against his skin.

Danny, however, found himself with a green blush dusting his cheeks as a hand reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously as he thought of how to explain just how they were still there when everything else had healed within a period of a week.

"Uh, well," He started, eyes flickering between Sam and Tucker anxiously before he continued, "Scars are… They're emotional," he blurted.

"Emotional?" Tucker questioned, cocking his head to the side, his beret nearly falling off his head.

"Each scar has emotional value in it," he explained, diverting his gaze to his boots. "You don't just… forget something that leaves a mark on you. Neither does your body. I mean… Some of them are faded, see?" He gestured to some of various little white nicks scattered across his arm.

"The, uh, more _damaging_ ones, they're kind of…" He paused, biting his lip before his hand hesitantly reached up to the neck of his HAZMAT suit, a finger hooked behind the material as he paused, looking at the two before him with a somewhat ashamed look before he lowered it, revealing a rather large scar that seemed to stretch from the lower portion of his throat to his right shoulder blade before trailing off, an angry pink red that shown easily.

As expected, Sam and Tucker visibly cringed and grimaced, each respectively, at the sight of the scar that had remained. It wasn't unfamiliar, which, in a way, made things even worse, in their eyes.

"That's the one Valerie gave you," Tucker blurted out, though he quickly realized what he'd said and drew back at the angry glare that Sam threw him before she turned back to Danny with concern and a strange guilt to her expression.

"Danny, I-"

"Don't," he cut her off, almost violently tugging his suit up to cover up the wound once more. He'd grown tense at the mention, and hearing his friend try to console him only made it worse. He knew she felt guilty for not having stepped into the line of fire, but that was exactly what he was trying to prevent.

He just wished it hadn't been Valerie.

The stood there for several long moments as they all gathered themselves, Sam looking at the clock that adorned the wall, Tucker staring blankly at the black screen of his PDA, and Danny at the concrete beneath them.

"Hey, my mom's making meatloaf tonight," Tucker suddenly spoke up, his voice only wavering a little, to his credit. "You guys wanna come over?"

"Sure, anything to escape my parents," Sam snorted, a look of contempt on her face. Danny simply nodded, following after them as they exited the old warehouse in favor for Tucker's home, the halfa listening to his best friends begin to argue over the benefits of their diets.


End file.
